


That Healing Touch

by MariaMediaOverThere



Series: Unravelled For You [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, happy endings, indulgent af, nuat thai, thai massage, the sexual kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-22 10:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9604313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaMediaOverThere/pseuds/MariaMediaOverThere
Summary: Seung-Gil is pushing himself harder than ever to work on his routine- although that's noble, it's also taking a toll on him physically.Phichit offers to help him work out some aches and kinks he's been having





	1. Ache

Another day, another almost-success.

 

But an "almost" quad is not **_a_** quad, Seung-Gil reminds himself. It's a failure.

 

The Korean begrudgingly saunters to his dorm with the heaviest of hearts. He called it in for the day- usually he'd be around until everyone left, but his body was practically begging him to have a break.

The constant pain shooting up his spine probably impeded his success, he had to remind himself. Maybe calling it early would be beneficial for future performance.

A quick albeit crippling throb at his shoulder as Seung-Gil fished for his dorm room keys made him realize that giving himself a break would be beneficial for not being an old man at the age of 22.

 

On the bright side, he could finally finish that book he's been putting on hold; maybe sit down and have a nice warm cup of tea.

 

Gingerly placing his gym bag (that he'd been dragging around, because his arm felt like might snap off) on his bed, he went to the water heater he placed next to his desk. The room wasn't overtly impressive- but it was near the ice rink, reserved for professionals and formal learners. There was nothing that pissed him off more than amateurs who would gawk- or worse, try to challenge him back in his home rick in Seoul as if he wasn't the national sports star.

Sure, his heart yearned for his baby Hoppang that he had to leave back home- but the ability to surreptitiously eye his other competitors in order to find their strengths and weaknesses was practically required, considering his work ethic.

 

And excuse you, that's the  _only_ reason he eyes his competitors. Not for any other reason, despite what that Leo de la Iglesia may imply.

 

 

After the falling out Seung-Gil had with his former coach, Min-So Park, he's been on the market for other coaches to get their grubby hands on. Usually coaches nowadays go on the prowl for someone to sign sponsorships and ad-revenue opportunities. It had been troublesome to weed out the good from the bad- as if Seung-Gil doesn't overthink enough as it is.

 

So for the longest time (it was actually just a few weeks, but for Seung-Gil, it had been a short eternity) he had been without a guiding hand. Which is, to be fair, not any different than policing himself. His previous coach did tell him he was always too hard on himself.

But he'll admit that he needs someone to call him out when he's become too stubborn, or even just anyone to bounce off ideas to. Seung-Gil may admit that he's a little calloused, he just cares about practicality a lot and refuses to pretend to care about something he doesn't- but he's not a liar.

 

It was when Phichit Chulanont- a competitor from Thailand, had sent him a message of recommendation did Seung-Gil remind himself not to lie.

In the message, the Thai said that he would, quote: ... _love for (him) to be coached by Ciao Ciao as well! He's very good and it'd be super fun for you to go here to Detroit! Of course, that's very hard... and you're puppy is very cute <3 So leaving her might be hard D: but it's just that i feel very bad about you firing your coach- and idk... maybe you'll consider it? He taught Yuuri the basics! Who knows? you could surpass him yet ;) YOU'LL HAVE TO GO THROUGH ME FIRST! reply soon xx_.

 

 

Unquote.

 

 

After several cross-referencing and careful watching of Yuuri Katsuki and Jean-Jacques Leroy's performances while they were still under Mr. Cialdini, he had been honestly impressed.

The technicality was there. Something he could respect.

Of course, for Katsuki, his endless fidgeting and anxiety stilted his otherwise enchanting moves. Cialdini isn't a miracle worker anyways- Katsuki was and still is just a nervous system all on his own.

Leroy, on the other hand, had executed his free skates with a clean finesse- but he lacked (rather, gladly hadn't developed yet) his narcissism. His early routines focused on speed and stunts, without his "audience appeal" (i.e. asking the crowd to sing-along to that godforsaken song)

 

And then there was Chulanont himself. Seung-Gil had seen his skates in person several times- both being East Asians does that.

There was no denying that he was talented, but his technicality was lacking. Perhaps that's why he's with Cialdini in the first place. Truth be told, Phichit  _had_ been improving quite a lot since the first time he and Seung-Gil competed in the Cup of China several years ago.

Back then, his hair had been a mess and his eyeliner uneven. Not that Seung-Gil had been gawking when he formally introduced himself with a too-bright smile and gloved hands.

 

It's just that he had never seen someone with... uh, that kind of skin. Almost a golden tan and wide eyes. It was unfamiliar to Seung-Gil, considering the very unforgiving (and uniform) look that Koreans had.

Pale skin. Wannabe-double eyelids. Smooth Jawline. Quite different form the the tanned complexion, doe eyes, and angled jawline with round cheeks.

 

 

 

 

Unfortunately, they hadn't been placed in the same bracket in the recent event.

...not that Seung-Gil had been eager to see him or anything.

 

 

Rostelecom was just unlucky. The two Yuri's, Mr.I-Jizz-On-The-Ice-Every-Time, and Leroy were all there to be the bane of his existence. The fact that the incest twins were there to bother him wasn't any better either.

 

A resounding ding reminded Seung-Gil of the water he'd been waiting to boil.

He tends to zone out, he's been told. He'd been just staring at the wall for the past 2 minutes.

 

 

The wall.

 

 

The walls aren't thin, but sometimes, he can still hear his neighbors. He can still hear Phichit on the other side.

 

 

He remembers the look of unbridled joy and surprise when Cialdini (he had told Seung-Gil to call him Ciao Ciao, but he'd rather not) had brought him over to the skater after sealing in their contract in his office. Sure, they had already gleamed over the bulk of formalities in their e-mail thread, but he still wanted to more particular when they had finally met in person.

 

Seung-Gil just really didn't want to be suddenly roped into sponsoring Coca Cola or something.

 

The Thai had practically ran into him with full force, wrapping toned arms around his waist and nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. He may have said something, but all Seung-Gil heard was pink noise.

He had pushed him away (his ribs were hurting), but to Seung-Gil's surprise, Phichit didn't have the snarky expression most people had when he had to reinforce his propensity for keeping his personal space personal. He just kept smiling in disbelief. He said he hadn't expected Seung-Gil to actually accept his recommendation, and that it made him very happy for Seung-Gil to have a new coach now.

 

He said he was happy that they could be closer friends now.

 

 

Closer.

Friends.

That would imply that Phichit had already considered them to be friends already.

 

Was that just it? An introduction at a competition almost 5 years ago makes for a friendship?

Seung-Gil worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

So how many friends did Phichit have?

 

 

Well, he and Leo were certainly buddy-buddy.

Cialdini had explained that he felt that Phichit's home rink in Bangkok was lackluster of better resources. He went on to complain about how no one regulated the ice and it'd just be full of scratches and dents from toe loops and aggressive skating.

So the coach-student had moved to Detroit where the Mexican-American competitor de la Iglesia practices with his coach.

 

 

So here they are.

 

Phichit had invited him to dinner that first night he had arrived in America. He had explained he needed to unpack, but the puppy-in-a-man's-body was having none of it.

He resembled a small child in the way he whined and pouted. It was hard to believe that he and Seung-Gil were the same age. Usually- rather,  _always_ , Seung-Gil would find it unbecoming for someone to act so immature... but just the way he bit his lip and tugged lightly on the hem of Seung-Gil's sports jacket got his heartbeat running away for some reason.

 

Leo was there. Surprised, but not as surprised as Phichit to find Seung-Gil standing before him. Seung-Gil hadn't realized he would be joining their impromptu dinner da-...gathering. But it wasn't like he was expecting something...

 

He chose Cialdini because of logic. Not for any other reason. Not with an... emotional push.

 

It was obvious that Leo was a little bit uncomfortable in his presence. Having a "resting bitch face" as Seung-Gil was taunted to have on SNS does that to you.

Not like those SNS articles really mean anything. They ranked Phichit Chulanont **3rd** on the  _World's Cutest Figure Skaters_ list. 

 

Seung-Gil had looked to his side that night and found Phichit dabbing sauce off the corner of his mouth, licking his lips afterward to make sure he hadn't missed a spot. His dark lashes fluttered as he had been explaining... something or whatever...

He turned to Seung-Gil for confirmation. He probably asked a question. Broken out of his daze, Seung-Gil blurted out a "what?" to which Phichit grinned at him at.

"Pay attention, silly!" He reached over to boop his nose with a delicate finger before continuing his monologue.

 

Seung-Gil was left to ponder on the injustices in the world.

3rd cutest?  _Really??_

 

 

 

 

Back to reality, as Seung-Gil pours the water on his favorite mug (with dog patterns, mind you) he has to remind himself there's nothing wrong with finding his fellow competitor cute. Doubly, there's nothing wrong when your other fellow competitor has already caught you staring at Phichit Chulanont one to many times.

He wonders if Leo had told Phichit about it. Phichit seems so oblivious to Seung-Gil's unintentional "eye-sex", as Leo had dubbed it to a flustered, denying Korean. But he knows better than to underestimate the Thai.

 

They're very close, anyways. Seung-Gil can hear them talking among themselves through the wall whenever they sleepover. Not that he's jealous or anything. He's been invited to join them once or twice, but he'd rather not. He likes his alone time...

 

But the thought of Leo getting to see Phichit newly-awakened, drool running down the side of his mouth with his hair in disarray makes him... feel things. Leo would be giving him shit if he knew. But he can at least shut him up by asking him how GuangHong Ji is doing.

 

 

He wouldn't be surprised if Phichit is already aware, actually.

It doesn't matter anyways- he just finds him aesthetically appealing, nothing more than that.

It's not like Phichit doesn't share that sentiment. Every now and then, he'd give him a compliment- tell him that his hair looks good today or that his shirt really defines his muscles or... other things like that. He's just friendly, Seung-Gil reminds himself.

 

Phichit is just friendly, Seung-Gil reminds himself as Phichit casually asks him to step on his face because he's 'too beautiful today'.

Seung-Gil had bit his inner-cheek and grumbled out a thank you before skating away to the other side of the rink- refusing to make eye contact for the rest of the day.

How could someone just say something like that so nonchalantly anyways?

 

 

He looks at his little pouch of teabags and realizes he must have forgotten to pick up a new box. Seung-Gil exhales hard out of his nose in annoyance.

Great.

No tea for today, and he was looking forward for it too.

What was he supposed to do with his water now?

 

 

 

 

He blinks.

Then looks to the wall.

 

 

 

"Oh, hey Seung!" Phichit has dorito dust on his cheek and his shorts are on backwards. He's leaning against his open door with a relaxed posture, lazily running his hand through his hair to get the bird's nest in order.

Seung-Gil should ought to tell him that Koreans don't just shorten names like that, but he's not there for that. "I'm out of tea. Do you have any?" Belatedly, he adds "H-Hello to you too."

 

Phichit only stifles a laugh that makes his round cheeks puff out more- making him look like the hamsters he posts about so often on Instagram. "Come in," He invites, stepping aside to let Seung-Gil in.

"Ah, no- I've got hot water in my room already, so... hm..." He looks to the ground and finds Phichit bare feet. Had he even left today? It was like 5 PM. Then again, he hadn't seen him on the rink today. He was probably taking a cheat day- something he used to chastise him on.

 

Considering the ache in his upper back, maybe he should take some pointers. He reaches back to press against the knot in his muscles.

 

"...Do you want green or... white... or... I have this new infusion with like apricot and strawberries!" Phichit calls from inside the room, where he's shuffling through his small collection next to an open bag of large doritos.

His smile drops. "What's wrong?"

 

"Huh?" Seung-Gil cocks an eyebrow (which Phichit has complimented him on countless of times for being 'on fleek' or whatever that means) as he moves his hand away. He pulls a muscle on the underside of his arm and grunts lightly. Were there any Korean spas nearby?

 

"Your face. You looked in pain."

 

"Are you sure that's not just my face?"

 

Phichit laughs- he does that a lot, but somehow it seems sincere every time. "You're funny." He follows, "Does your back hurt or...?"

 

Seung-Gil pauses for a bit. "Green is fine. I'm not funny. Sort of. I've just been pushing myself lately."

 

 

"Aw, come on now, Seung-Seung~ You should loosen up a bit." Phichit sing-songs as he takes the green teabag from it's box. "The weather is starting to turn warm so the quick cold-to-warm makes training intensely harder on the body. That's why I've taking more breaks recently."

 

"I thought you were just lazy." Seung-Gil said with snark he didn't intend.

 

Phichit only winks as he goes over to him with the green tea in hand. "Take care of yourself, alright?" He bades, holding the door. "I'm always here in case you need anything!"

 

 

Seung-Gil should leave. He's got what he came for. But for some reason, his feet refused to move.

He just sort of... stares.

He should stop that- it's becoming a bad habit. But he just realized then that he hadn't seen Phichit in over 72 hours and is reminded how nice his collarbones look. Seung-Gil's dark eyes follow the curve of Phichit's ratty shirt as it falls off his shoulder.

Seung-Gil bites his tongue.

 

"Can I... ask a favor?"

 

 

 

 

 

"Woah! You weren't kidding! Your knots have knots!" Phichit assesses as he placing a tender hand against Seung-Gil's back and presses his thumb against one of the aches near beside his spine through his shirt. "Jeez... how hard exactly have you been working yourself?"

Seung-Gil huffs haughtily only to hide the way he's grateful he's lying on his stomach so his legs don't give out from the way Phichit's hand traces his spine all the way down his lower back. "I used to be the _only_ skater to land a Quad Loop on an International Competition... I won't settle for now being  _one_ of the only skaters who can..."

He can't help the way his heart wrenches at that thought.

 

Phichit pats Seung-Gil's hip consolingly, "But you were the first! That's gotta count for something. You'll always be in the books for the being first... I'm not saying that you should settle. I'm just saying that you shouldn't talk like you dishonored your entire family or something."

Before Seung-Gil could think, much less say, anything- Phichit reaches over and takes a sip from Seung-Gil's tea cup that sat on his beside table.

 

Seung-Gil turns (or at least, turns as much as he can without snapping a vertebra) to look at his Thai friend with as much malice as he can muster.

 

Phichit only winks for the second time that evening. "Technically, it's  _my_ tea." He giggles before reaching over to turn Seung-Gil's head to be facedown. "And consider it compensation for some legit Nuat Thai massage from a legit Thai!" He cracks his knuckles with dramatic flourish.

 

 

Muffled through the bedsheets, but dripping with sass, Seung-Gil threatens, "If you injure me, I will kick you ass."

 

The Thai leans forward, pressing his front flush against Seung-Gil's back so that he can talk directly to his hear. Seung-Gil refuses to let the shiver that's coagulating in his bones follow through. What happened to personal space? They were basically planking on each other.

Phichit giggles, his breath blowing against the shell of his ear, "Anything to get you near my butt." he says as if it isn't completely destroying Seung-Gil's life.

 

 

 

 

Truth be told, he's actually really good.

When Seung-Gil had requested that Phichit help him ease the tension in his shoulder, he had just wanted a quick rub on his shoulders. But Phichit's eyes just started to go wide- excitedly, he tells the Korean that his mom had taught him some basic Thai yoga massage techniques and was more than happy to sharpen them up on good friend.

 

  
Good.

Friend.

They're good friends now.

That's... good, Seung-Gil muses to himself as Phichit takes his wrist and marches towards Seung-Gil's neighboring dorm.

 

 

Apparently, traditional Thai massage requires no oils or lotions and that he remain clothed. With that in mind, Seung-Gil understands that should save him from anything too overtly... um, sensual.

 

But he was wrong.

 

 

"Put your hands on the back of your head." Phichit, who is sitting on the small of his back, taps on his hand to prompt him. He loops his arms around Seung-Gil's and raises his front off the mattress. It gives a pleasant stretch to his back- Seung-Gil hears his lower back crack softly, he stifles a moan.

 

Now's not the time to make this sexual.

Rather, it's never the time to make things sexual.

 

He's been holding in his grunts, moans, and whines as Phichit's diligent fingers gives firm but controlled acupressure on his knots.

Every so often, Phichit asks with an air of hesitance if he's doing okay. Seung-Gil tries very hard not to beg him to keep his hands on his body.

Instead, he swallows hard and gives a curt nod, hoping the flush from his neck up is not too noticeable.

 

 

 

"Turn over, please."

 

 

Oh no.

Hiding his face against the sheets is one thing, but...

 

Seung-Gil turns nonetheless. Delaying it only makes it suspicious.

There's nothing to be flustered about. It just so happens that there's an admittedly cute man who is giving him pleasure.

 

Um.

 

Scratch that. There's just an aesthetically appealing individual who is in his personal space, helping him with a problem. Seung-Gil just isn't used to asking for favors, much less having people not just breach but completely abolish his personal space.

There we are.

 

 

 

Seung-Gil stares at the ceiling as the Thai runs his hand down his side (he swears they lingered at his hip and that he's not just projecting), and rest at the top of his thigh.

Seung-Gil tries not to die.

His hand holds onto the side and coaxes him to twist his lower body. Phichit's other hand reaches over to press against the opposite shoulder to keep the stretch good.

 

He dreads the thought that Phichit can feel his heart beat wildly in his chest.

 

 

...Does he dare look at Phichit?

 

 

Phichit's hand on his shoulder runs down to the other thigh, so that he can twist on the other side.

Out of curiosity, Seung-Gil looks.

 

 

He watches with carefulness as Phichit's serene face, concentrating, performs with a certain grace reserved only for 6th placers in the GPF from Thailand.

Seung-Gil has seen that face before. It's the same face he had performing 'Shall we Skate?'. A determined, but playful buzz resonated around him. It made this fluttery sensation crawl up the side of Seung-Gil's guts.

 

Phichit lets go of the position, and maybe just because Phichit is the devil incarnate, the hand on Seung-Gil's upper thigh wander inwards.

 

The touch on his inner-thigh is electric. Even through sweatpants, he can acutely recognize the pressure that Phichit's hands have.

 

 

 

Seung-Gil jolts up- almost knocking his forehead against Phichit's. "That's enough." His voice is squeaky and he hates himself for that.

He hates the way Phichit looks at him with disappointment. It's because he knows that disappointment is for himself. He thinks he's done something wrong. Because Phichit is an annoying angel just like that.

 

"It's not--" He exhales through his nose. "It was good. You were good. I'm just... um... I think I'm better now. Thank you."

 

Every word sounded stiffer and stiffer- more forced. Seung-Gil knows he's not subtle but he  _needs_ Phichit to leave immediately. His presence is doing things to his brain (and by extension, his body).

 

"Oh, um," Phichit's dark gray eyes shifts sideways. "But I'm not... done..." He lower lip juts out, and it's glossy.

Yeah.

It's probably that strawberry chapstick Seung-Gil catches him applying between practices. He can feel Leo looking at him oddly with a raised eyebrow whenever he catches himself watching Phichit. He'd turn at the American's direction and give him a hard glare- almost challenging him to say something. Or at least he hopes that's what it looks like. For all he knows (and just because his luck is sour) it may look more akin to pleading to keep it a secret.

Keep his infatuation a secret.

 

The dawning realization that Seung-Gil is fucked over crashes into him. He almost misses Phichit speaking in favor or calculating the most cost efficient plan to fly himself to the sun.

"Thai massages are like... there's a start, middle, and end... but, uh, if you don't want it anymore- I can stop."

 

 

Seung-GIl looks down to find Phichit's hand still on his thigh. Phichit's thumb is  _dangerously_ close to a very private part. That awareness unleashes the shiver that Seung-Gil's been keeping in. It's all but a full body tremor at this point.

"It's- I'm actually.... Thank you, but this is enough, I'm-" Seung-Gil moves his leg, hoping that Phichit will get the hit and remove his hand from that particular area. But that does nothing to alleviate the situation much less make it a billion times worse.

 

 

Yes, a billion. He's doing the math in his head.

 

 

Phichit's hand slides off his thigh and the Thai falls forward, throwing both himself Seung-Gil over and causing them to fall on top of each other.

If Seung-Gil thought Phichit lying flush across his back was bad, him lying on his front if much,  _much, **much**_ worse.

 

 

He can tell the exactly millisecond that Phichit notices what's up. He's blurting out a flurry of apologies faster than Seung-Gil can understand them, then suddenly he just stops. Seung-Gil can see it in his eyes: confusion. unsureness. dread. doubt.

 

Phichit wiggles just so- it's enough to

a.) confirm Phichit's suspicions, and

b.) give unwanted stimulation to Seung-Gil's erection

 

 

 

 


	2. Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took a while, but here we are.
> 
> give some kudos, leave a comment, validate my wasting of time, and have a happy day!
> 
> also?? follow me on social media @mariamediahere IG/twitter. i make fanart and post pics of my husky and poledance choreos

When Seung-Gil was a young boy, he had never been a fan of vegetables. This was typical for a child his age at the time, but as he grew older, he’s pure unbridled hatred for the produce only sustained.  
It was childish, he understands.  
Seung-Gil may be rude, but he’s self-aware.

Perhaps it’s psychological- he theorized.

He had been regarded as mature since he was born- already being independent at the age of 7.  
Distantly, Seung-Gil remembers once overhearing his mother boasting to her tea-time friends how her little Seung-Gil could commute to and fro from school all by himself.  
It gave him a sense of pride knowing he made his family proud.

Yet, he also knows the forlorn look his relatives have when he refuses to join family pictures or carry his new baby niece or nephew or whatever.

 

So maybe hating vegetables was the only thing keeping him steady. It’s a sort of counter-balance, perhaps. It was the singular streak of immaturity he had left at the ripe age of 20.

 

Yet, right now, at this very moment, Seung-Gil is having this silly thought that maybe, just maybe, if he wills it hard enough, the ground can open up and swallow him whole.

 

None of them dared to move. Seung-Gil can feel the uncomfortably prickly heat reach a fever-pitch. He could practically feel it radiating off of Phichit too.

Poor guy. Roped into this clusterfuck.

 

The Korean plays the scenario in his head. Was there any way they could deal with this…. situation… as mature adults?  
Seung-Gil huffs, and that sudden chest movement startles the Thai boy on top of him- if his quick inhale is any indication.

 

It’s just a thing that happens sometimes, Seung-Gil reasons with himself. Phichit would understand.  
No-reason boners, am I right?  
That’s something he is a little more familiar with compared to this excruciatingly fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
Every person reaches adolescence at some point- albeit, some are more eager than others.

When the opportunity had risen (no pun intended), Seung-Gil gave himself quick, casual pleasure, before resuming to whatever it was he was doing before he was rudely interrupted by anatomy.  
For a time, he had considered himself immune. No picture of scantily-clad men nor women titillated his fantasy, much less even caught his attention.

But Seung-Gil wouldn’t be lying to himself if he hadn’t had the indulgence every now and masturbate to thoughts of somebody’s hands on his body. It was natural.  
He liked to keep the mystery person blank- and just focus on the touches instead of the intimacy. There was no need to project anyone else into his misplaced relief-mechanism.

 

So when had it happened?  
When had that figure he’d sometimes think about begin to have features? Particular features, at that.

 

Well, the figure always had black hair. That was just because Seung-Gil deemed it most likely, as it was the most naturally-occurring hair color in nature, and he didn’t want to be bothered with having to exercise his imagination more than necessary.  
But somehow, along the way, that black fringe turned shorter and shorter. It became a cropped mop of hair with choppy bangs that fell over their eyes.  
It’d sweep over Seung-Gil’s forehead as his fantasy-love leaned forward to place a searing kiss to his lips.

 

Those lips would taste like strawberry chapstick, Seung-Gil decided with finality.

 

He remembers the first time it clicked.  
He remembers having a need to indulge himself once again after what felt like years; all the pent up stress in his body was begging him to do something about it.  
He remembers walking home after another dinner one day distantly with Phichit and Leo, in tandem, talking animatedly in front of him.  
He remembers how his eyes lingered on Phichit’s form- tracing the edges of his lithe body.  
He remembers the way Leo (passive-aggressively, mind you) mentioned during dinner then that he thinks that Guang-Hong may have a crush on Phichit; and he remembers the way Phichit turned pink from flattery.  
He remembers the way it made him feel.

 

“Seung…?” Phichit piped up- breath hot through the material of Seung-Gil’s shirt. They still dare not move.

The Korean made a non-committal sound. His throat would betray him otherwise- and he doesn’t need another body part of his turning on him right now.

“Is that,” The Thai huffed softly. The exhale gave Seung-Gil goosebumps. “is that your dick?”

For a moment, he wished Phichit weren’t resting his weight on his elbows and instead pressed himself against Seung-Gil again, if only to squash the weird sensations in his chest.  
The Korean was really hoping that the ground could take a hint any time now and follow up and his request to pluck him off the face of the earth.

 

“Yeah.”

 

It took a while for Seung-Gil to appreciate Phichit’s laughter. But he did anyways, much to his chagrin.  
When Phichit laughs, the atmosphere feels lighter.

Even now, as Phichit is giggling on top of Seung-Gil, he feels a little better knowing, at the very least, he is amused by the situation instead of affronted.

But the realization dawned upon him that that laughter is probably ridicule. Nothing could stop the wash of shame that bathed Seung-Gil in angry waves.  
Not even Phichit’s body involuntarily vibrating against his own could take his made off of the absolute shattering of his pride. Seung-Gil bit his inner-cheek to keep himself from getting mad- but he knew, he just knew he can feel the knot between his eyebrows forming.

 

Yet, that scowl melted away when Phichit’s hand came up press onto the mattress beside Seung-Gil’s head. He propped himself up, hovering over the Korean with a delicate smile playing on his lips.  
But no one could avoid the mischievous glint shining in charcoal eyes.

 

“Seung~” He chirps happily. “I’m happy you enjoyed my massage.”

 

Let it be clear that Seung-Gil only wants Phichit back on him only so he can find his face again. He hates being cornered like this- figuratively and literally.  
It was… doing things to his brain.

The fact that Phichit is looking at him like- like the way his dog looks at special lamb-flavored wet meat isn’t helping either.  
It’s like he’s about to be devoured; Seung-Gil tries his best to abject his body’s natural response to this very sensitive circumstance that they’re in.

 

A meticulously manicured nail traces a line from the base of his ear all the way down to his chin.  
Phichit seems to delight in the way Seung-Gil seems to shake like a feather under his touch.  
But all too soon, the hungry look in the Thai’s face switches to a more serious, subdued expression.

Phichit cupped the side of Seung-Gil’s face, motioning him to look him in the eyes.

Seung-Gil felt petulant- avoiding eye contact, afraid of confrontation in his… friend’s… little game. Phichit was having none of that noise; he proceeded to lightly ghost his thumb under the Korean’s eye, urging him to look forward.

Finally, Seung-Gil had given in.

“Stop me if you don’t want this.” Phichit whispered- but it sounded more like a plea. It was as if Phichit was begging Seung-Gil to absolve him of the daunting consequences that follow his actions.

 

The feelings came rushing in all at once; mind kicking into over-analysis.  
Did Phichit want this too? Seung-Gil thought incredulously.

Any doubt was otherwise pardoned when Seung-Gil finally recognized that the hungry look in Phichit’s eyes was not exactly like his dog’s.  
Moreover, Seung-Gil realizes it bared resemblance to himself after he had to go wash his hands after “finishing himself off” whenever he came around to giving himself pleasure.

 

Except that look didn’t resound with the passing wave of ecstasy. Rather, it hinted at things to come.

 

Steeling himself, Seung-Gil juts his head forward: permission.  
He realizes belatedly that he looks a little silly like this; pleading for a kiss.

But Phichit seems just as excited of the prospect and goes ahead to close the space between them.

Phichit’s lips only pecked once- then twice. Sweet and innocent, much like testing the waters.  
However, eagerness started to overwhelm the Thai, it seemed, as he pressed forward with more force. Seung-Gil eases himself back down onto the mattress, and let’s himself be tasted.

 

A heat blossomed forth, unlike anything Seung-Gil had experienced. It was so nubile and earnest- but not pure, per se. Likewise, their kisses dripped of desperation. Phichit’s tongue, although only quickly, swiped at Seung-Gil’s bottom lip.

With fire in his gut, the Korean responded to the best of his ability.  
Lord knows he isn’t as well-versed in making out as someone like Phichit would be. But damn him, if Seung-Gil isn’t going to let himself have this moment.

 

The Korean turns his head just so- getting a better angle to attack Phichit’s mouth with. No one could prepare Seung-Gil for the soft, wet sounds that came about; they were so raunchy that it only gave life to the erection Seung-Gil was still sporting.

Somewhere along the way, he had started to nibble on Phichit’s lower lip- sucking softly before swiping it over with his tongue.  
If Phichit pressing his body harder against him was any indication, he’d say he’s doing a pretty good job.

 

Without warning, the man on top of him pulled away. A dusting of red over the highs of his face was visible, even with Seung-Gil’s kiss-addled mind.

“Seung, I-“ The Thai’s breath caught up with him. “I like you very much!”

Seung-Gil blinked.  
“Of course you do. You kissed me. I didn’t think that needed to be said.”

Phichit’s mouth irked in irritation. “Yes, but—I want to say it! I like you!”

“Oh.” Reality and consequences started to settle down a little now, instead of looming over their heads ominously.

 

Seung-Gil thinks back to the quad he flubbed earlier today- how he over-rotated, and wasn’t able to stick the landing. How, even if he knew what was wrong, his body wouldn’t follow his mind to the decimal.  
It was as if his mind and body were on the same page, but not on the same paragraph. They’ve been misaligned somehow.

 

But right now, somehow, Seung-Gil knows exactly what his body wants him to say, and his mouth relays accordingly. “I like you too.”

 

“Do you mean that?” Phichit asks with hesitation written in bold letters. The insecurity is rolling off his tongue. The same tongue that was previously in his mouth just a moment ago.

 

 

Seung-Gil clucks his tongue and finds the taste of strawberry chapstick lingering in his mouth.

 

 

“I’m not good with words.” Seung-Gil replies too quickly for his mind to peer-review. The misalignment resumes. “but, I… you’re special. You make me… I like…” He grumbles angrily to himself.

Phichit’s eyes twinkle a little bit. At least his effort wasn’t misconstrued.

He rolls off of Seung-Gil and sits on the floor next to the bed. He props his head on the edge of the mattress cutely. “Say it with me now,” He speaks slowly, teasingly, “I have a crush on you, Phichit Chulanont.”

 

The Korean can’t help but be endeared. He’s under a spell, he realizes. Bracing himself with an inhale, Seung-Gil parrots, “I-“

 

“…And I think you’re the coolest skater ever! Wow! Your hamsters are the cutest, but not as cute as you~ Your butt is also fantastic! I’d do sinful things to it all day and make you feel good. I want to sweep you off your feet and drown you in my love an—“

 

Phichit grumbles through Seung-Gil’s hand on his mouth. The Korean found it a bit too forward to shut him up with his mouth instead, so he settled.  
He might like Phichit a lot, but he can be annoying.

 

Phichit licks Seung-Gil’s palm in irritation.

 

 

“Gross.” Seung-Gil huffs, but with a tiny smile on his face, retrieving his hand away; he sits up on the bed. Maybe being annoying isn’t too bad- at least in this circumstance.  
Looking up at the Korean’s dark eyes, which are trained on him, Phichit sticks his tongue out in rebellion.

 

With no thought to his actions, Seung-Gil leans forward to press his lips against fellow skater’s like he wanted to. He catches Phichit’s eyes flutter close in the moments before their mouths connect.

Tan hands come up now, making their way to the top of Seung-Gil’s thighs. He coaxes the Korean’s legs to go off the mattress.

“Phi-“ Seung-Gil breaths against glossy lips. He’s not exactly against Phichit’s wayward hands, but these pants are a little too tight for the response that he’s causing.

 

Are they moving too fast? Seung-Gil wouldn’t know- he’s got nothing to compare it to.  
Would Phichit find his rampant virginity charming or perhaps be annoyed at his over-eager, fumbling demeanor. Seung-Gil swallows down the heavy sense of dread collecting in his chest.

 

Phichit’s we tongue, unaware and unperturbed by the man’s mini-crisis, wanders across the Korean’s pale face. A nip on his lobe is all takes for the Korean to gasp un-manly in Phichit’s face.  
Seeming impressed with himself, a smug Thai murmurs into Seung-Gil’s ear. “Let me show you what other things my tongue can do.”

 

 

“I’m—“ Excited. Looking forward to this. Ready to cry. Having a feeling I’ve possibly died and am having a vivid wet-dream-esque hallucination

 

Seung-Gil settles for silence.

 

Phichit, on the other hand, does not. He part Seung-Gil’s lips by pressing his thumb between them. The pad of his thumb brushes gently over the Korean’s lower-lip- smooth with the saliva and the shared chapstick between the two of them.  
“Tell me what you want.” The tanner boy coos, his other hand patting Seung-Gil’s thigh reassuringly. It reminds Seung-Gil of a parent that’s trying to comfort their child after a tantrum.

 

“You… I’m fine with whatever.”

 

It’s not a lie. At this point, with his first confession and first kiss marked off his list, he’d still be content if Phichit decided to call it a day.

Tutting in disappointment (again with the parent-child likeness), Phichit brings him closer down towards him and buries his nose in Seung-Gil’s hair.

“So you don’t want this then?” Phichit hums, the reassuring hand on Seung-Gil’s thigh turns devious- reaching in between the Korean’s legs to play with the jogger’s drawstrings.

His heart feels fit to just give up from over-excertion.  
“I-If… If you want to.”

“Hm, how considerate.” Phichit giggles against the Korean’s mop of ebony hair. It’s unnervingly pure compared to the dirty things his hand is doing. He’s got a string wrapped around his finger, and he’s tugging it absent-mindedly. “Well, if that’s the case, I hope you’re okay with what I want to do next?”

Gulping, and completely not complaining about anything in his life for once, Seung-Gil watches in awe as Phichit’s hands open Seung-Gil’s legs. Those fingers, mimicking their earlier gentle presses, draw small circles on the Korean’s shaking inner-thighs.

 

His gut drops in arousal.

 

“How about a happy ending, Seung-Gil?” Phichit smiles, again, far too innocent in tone for what he’s actually saying. “Let’s finish off your Nuat Thai nice and right, yeah?”

 

Seung-Gil coughs to get his voice back, “Is this standard in ever Nuat Thai session?” His skin feels aflame.

“Only for the really pretty ones.” The Thai hums happily, slipping his hands up and down underneath Seung-Gil’s sports shirt.  
Those fingers play with the waistband of his joggers.

 

Seung-Gil felt like he was in an out-of-control bullet training, and he had no idea where or when he was ever going to slow down, if at all. Looking to Phichit’s face as he plays with the drawstrings, he realizes he’s so ready to crash if he can just live this moment.

“Lift up, baby.”

The Korean does just so, lifting his hips to allow Phichit to (unbearably) slowly slide his joggers and boxers over his ass- not completely uncovering his now-horribly-erect cock. He tries not to think too hard on (Haha, hard-on.) how Phichit just affectionately called him “baby”.

 

It’s so surreal now. Never in his wildest fantasies would he entertain the idea of—  
A snap.  
“You know what?” Phichit snaps his fingers and look to the corner of the room in deep thought. “I actually have to wake up early tomorrow.” With dramatic flair, he sighs and runs his finger though his bangs. “I guess some other time then, Se—?!”

 

Seung-Gil’s got his legs hooked around Phichit’s torso- begging him not to go. “Don’t joke about that.”

He whines- pathetically, at that. There’s a pull that’s causing him to drop his otherwise immaculate front. Seung-Gil wonders if this is what catching feelings feel like.  
Lord knows what came over him. Even worse that Seung-Gil knows- he knows- that Phichit was simply teasing him on purpose to incite a reaction.

 

 

Personal integrity be damned, the Korean decides. The hormones are giving him a shot of adrenaline stronger and of a more sexually-driven nature than what he’s used to. Briefly, Seung-Gil wonders if it’s a medical condition.

Still, his resolve is apparently imaginary; this, the Korean realizes as he hooks his feet together behind Phichit’s back, holding his lithe body in place.

 

 

Desperation is an ugly state of mind, he always believed, but at least Seung-gil never really cared for the aesthetics.

“Please don’t go.” There was a whimper somewhere there, but he chose to ignore it.

“Well, if that’s the case, then—“

  
“I mean, like… ever. Stay with me.”

  
“Uh?” Phichit blinks with wide eyes.

 

The motion is hypnotic. Those mascara-ladden lashes just make his eyes look so much prettier.  
Seung-Gil loosens his hold on Phichit, feeling ridiculous now. “I like you too much for this to be…. um, a one-time thing? Yes?” He turns to hide his face- this is practically unbearable now.

The Thai’s face is taut in what seems to be perplex.  
He’s got a thumb against his lips, chewing gently on his nail; Seung-Gil tries not to let his imagination get ahead of himself with how much nicer those lips would look wrapped around something wider.

Keyword: tries.

Those sneaky little hands make their way back up his legs. “Don’t worry,” His voice is no longer laced with mischief, rather, it rung familiar to the tone he would use to his puppy. “I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”  
It was adoration, he identifies.

With one swift flick of the hand, Seung-Gil’s pants are off and he’s exposed now to the open world and prying, cool gray eyes.

 

Those gray eyes inspects him with careful diligence- blank-faced and stoic. The Korean feels hot under the scrutiny. Would he want to tap out? Does he disappoint? Penis envy has never been a thing he’d consider up until this moment in particular.

“Take off your shirt.” Phichit requests- commands in a no-nonsense way.

 

Although stunted by such a dominant outburst, the Korean follows accordingly. His shirt is halfway up his chest when Phichit reaches forward to grab his wrist.  
His vision may be partially covered by unkempt strands of hair and his bundled shirt up most of his face, but he can still see Phichit’s playful face looking at him with an eyebrow cocked up.  
“Don’t be so hasty. Give me a show.”

 

“O-Oh.” He says dumbly, because sex appeal was such a foreign concept to him that it was practically light-years away- alien. The purr in his… friend(?)’s voice was giving him a lot to live up to, additionally.  
Maybe he should have taken Almavivo’s core essence more seriously instead of the technicality points, he mused, as Seung-Gil dropped his shirt to try again.

 

He takes a few seconds of reprieve- biting his inner-cheek and wondering what would be seen as sexy.  
“You’re over thinking~” Phichit scolds lightly, pressing his index finger between his eyebrows, where he knows there’s a wrinkle in. The Thai would often call out the feature as a tell-tale of his analytical habits whenever they hung out. “Feel it.”

There was this one move, he remembers, from his Almavivo choreography that he found strangely… exciting to do. It gave him a certain rush of yes, look at me. It was horribly embarrassing, though. He chose not to let himself get too lost in such a nubile feeling.  
On second thought, that restraint may have been what compromised his performance that day.

 

A spark of frustration- for himself, or for the fact that his erection is just begging for anything at all- he puts up a front.  
Bracing himself, and absorbing the advice in earnest, Seung-Gil rucks up the shirt with a slow chest slide. One arm out first, flexing over his head, rolling his shoulders back to puff out the pale expanse of his chest, before he finally strips the shirt completely off his person.

 

Phichit’s got this face on- like he just watched the second coming of Christ. The gawking makes him feel a little self-conscious but also proud.  
The grip on his thighs goes tighter—  
“I am so fucking horny right now.” Phichit growls under his breath, quiet but sincere, like he’s at a confessional. It sends all kinds of shock waves to rack across the Korean’s system. Don’t even let him start on how he just heard Phichit of all people curse.

 

It’s raunchy and dirty and filthy and erotic—and before Seung-Gil can think of any other synonyms, those plump lips wrap around the head of his dick.

He shouts, and immediately bites his tongue.  
If someone were to walk in on this, he’d die of mortification.

 

Now usually, when they’d converse, Phichit’s the one making the racket while Seung-Gil gives the occasional sound of acknowledgement. Yet with the Thai’s mouth doing other things at the moment, only Seung-Gil’s noises fill this silence it leaves behind.’

It’s awfully awkward, he thinks, to hear himself like this.  
Wet sounds resonate from where Phichit laps up his slit and Seung-Gil can’t help the throaty groan that escapes him.  
Does he taste okay? He’d hate for Phichit to be turned off. These thoughts had never dared enter his consciousness before, and yet here they are.

Disbelief and arousal colors Seung-Gil a dark red. Unsure what to do with his hands, he reaches forward to place a palm down on Phichit’s hair, stroking those dark wisps to spur him on.  
It seems to work, given the hand that is now on his cock, running deft fingers along the underside’s veins.

Seung-Gil squeaks- he’s so naked right now, physically and emotionally. The overexposure gives him an admittedly delightful buzz, though, so he doesn’t dare cover up.  
If anything, the praise that Phichit is giving his form is driving him insane with lust. The Thai on his knees, practically worshipping him is making his gut warm.

Those fingers wrap around his shaft and pump once- then twice. With erratic breaths, Seung-Gil tugs on Phichit’s hair, “T-T-Too d…dry…y…” he manages.

 

Phichit hums in understanding, and that vibration directly on the head of his dick does things to him. He tries his best not to thrust forward, such that he might accidentally choke Phichit on his dick. That of which, honestly, he inwardly hopes the Thai might be into, considering how the image of it gets his blood pumping south.

 

Those lips come off with a sinful pop, and lurch forward for a chaste kiss on his slit. It’s horribly affectionate and Seung-Gil can’t help the smile coming around.  
That certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by the man in front of him, peering up at his face with a smile of his own- it’s stunning.

However sharing a moment, Seung-Gil realizes how touch-starved he is without hands on his body, and whines a little to get Phichit to notice the erection bobbing in front of his pretty little face.

Laughing at his antics, Phichit licks up his palm before rushing to get friction up on his dick. It’s the right kind of tightness, and he’s helpless under this hold. He can already feel his body trembling in excitement.

 

 

Phichit’s got that wicked mouth back on him, enveloping Seung-Gil in wet heat before hollowing his cheeks to suck noisily on his cock.  
“F-Fuck…!” Seung-Gil gyrates a little against his better judgment. The moment the tip of his dick nudges against Phichit’s inner-cheek, it’s game over and he moans wantonly, calling for his newfound lover’s name.

Through hazy eyes, he can see Phichit turn pink at his outburst. What a strange man to be flattered by someone calling his name while getting blown. It wasn’t like he could resist it either. The pleasure transcends him.  
Seung-Gil catalogues that expression, awe and surprise, with a dick in his mouth, for future lonely nights.

 

Though for some reason, he has a feeling he may have fewer lonely nights than previously.  
The revelation makes his heart soar, as cheesy as it may seem. It ignites love, above all things, under his pale skin.

 

 

The tandem of hand and mouth has got him hysterical. The impulse to thrust forward compels him, but he will not risk hurting Phichit- at least not while they’re consummating for the first time.  
Who knows?  
He might be into some sexual hurting.

…He might be…

 

Seung-Gil is still petting Phichit’s hair, he finds. He then stops his ministrations of petting to wrap his fingers around wisps of dark hair to pull against the scalp.

 

The reaction is immediate. Phichit’s body jumps and he’s looking up at Seung-Gil with half-lidded eyes and eyebrows hitched up in hope.  
Seung-Gil pulls again, a little harder.

 

The tan hands on his cock leave and grip his hips with purpose. Phichit moves forward to take what he can into his mouth.

The silky texture has got him screaming Phichit’s name. “Oh my god, fuck—shit, wait, I—so deep…” Seung-Gil can’t even look at him anymore- he knows, he just knows, that the sight of him deep-throating is dangerous and would send him over the edge.

 

Phichit seems to have a whole other mindset, swallowing around his dick, and running his tongue against his underside as if he doesn’t understand how good that feels.  
   
What a tease, Seung-Gil thinks.

 

The wet sounds and his panting have now had a new friend- slight gagging noises, courtesy of an overzealous 6th placer in the recent GPF.  
Sweat and testosterone in the air makes Seung-Gil’s head swim, and he’s pulling Phichit’s hair harder than before now. He’s been intoxicated by this environment, he thinks, and he’s never been more happy than in the tender hold of Phichit.

 

The growing tightness in his lower-half is horribly familiar. Urgently, he takes Phichit’s jaw into his hand to signal him.

 

Phichit’s mouth leaves a sticky coldness in its wake. Pre-cum mixed with saliva makes his dick shine under the fluorescent bulb in the dorm room. But the hand doesn’t quit leave—closed fist keeping Seung-Gil’s toes curled and breath caught.

 

 

“I’m…” he tries, but fails spectacularly when that pink tongue swipes a bead of pre-cum from the slit. “I’m gonna… if you…” He exhales hard through his nostrils, frustrated at how his libido is besting his diction.

Phichit giggles, apparently fascinated in how quickly and efficiently he can unravel the cold, stoic-faced skater.  
Ignoring Seung-Gil’s warnings, Phichit sticks his tongue out and flicks his wrist as fast as he can.

It makes the Korean writhe, begging for mercy. “Phichit-! Phichit, it’s so… It….”

“Tell me,” Those lips breathing puffs against his dick spur the heat collecting, “Tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels… so good.” Seung-Gil shivers as Phichit fondles his balls with his other hand as a reward, “So good. You’re so good, Phichit. I… I like you very much.” His eyes are pricking with unshed tears- this wasn’t exactly how he’d imagine his confession would go.

But Phichit doesn’t seem to mind, if the look of sheer ecstasy on his face is anything to go by. With that look, you couldn’t tell which one of them is the one being masturbated.

 

 

With rowdy strokes, and a languid tongue that gives quick but pointed flicks, Phichit is setting Seung-Gil up for a climax his body is begging him to have.

“I… I wanna cum…” His body thrums to validate that, yes, in fact, he wants to cum. “Let me cum, Phichit. I wanna…”

 

“Hm?” Phichit hums—another pointed lick— “Where do you want to cum?”

Seung-Gil is a little too far gone to respond, enchanted by the tight tunnel Phichit’s fist is making around his cock.

“In my hand?”

Seung-Gil huffs,

“In my mouth, then?”

Seung-Gil thinks a little, but decides that that’s not what he wants. He shakes his head.

“On my face?”

The Korean whines, hoping that conveys his desire for doing just that- to ejaculate on that pretty face of his.

 

“Oh? How lewd, Seung-Gil~” He laughs, putting more pressure into playing with the Korean’s balls.  
“Phichit—!” He warns, but he can already feel the pressure ready to burst.

 

 

“Cum on my face.”

 

Seung-Gil does just that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“How’s your jaw?” Seung-Gil asks, although a little awkward, as he pulls the covers over Phichit’s form.  
“A little sore, but it was worth it.” He finishes the sentence with a saucy wink that makes Seung-Gil feel hot.

After the sex and the clean-up, Seung-Gil had deemed that he should at least stay the night, given his efforts.  
It wasn’t like he could just let him get up and leave after an experience like that. He may be socially inept, but Seung-Gil Lee has manners.

“Where are you gonna sleep?” Phichit yawns, turning on his side. Although underneath the covers, he can still see the delicious curve of the Thai’s hip.

He tries his best not to reach out and caress the slope there. He knows Phichit’s only wearing his boxers, since his sleepwear is all the way back in his room.

 

He tried to return the favor after his orgasm, but Phichit had halted him, telling Seung-Gil he’s exhausted from training and from his efforts to give Seung-Gil, quote “the best first blowjob in his entire life, that makes all subsequent blowjobs worthless”.

But he’s still, at the very least, a little aroused—Seung-Gil reminds himself. He’d hate to leave him hot and bothered, craving for a touch that Seung-Gil may not be able to satisfy.

 

At least for now.

Tomorrow, he’ll do as much research as he can to find a flawless oral sex technique (and maybe more).

 

 

Remembering about the question he was asked, Seung-Gil ripped himself out of his daze to respond, “On the floor. I’ve got extra co—“

“Nonsense! This is your room!” Phichit’s got him by the hand, pulling his on his mattress and under the covers.

  
Seung-Gil’s got a loose shirt with a dog on and some worn out jersey shorts. He looks abysmal in anything that isn’t sportswear, he’s been told.

His sleepwear couldn’t escape that criterion either.

Through the material, he can still somehow feel Phichit’s warmth envelope him under the sheets. The fluttery feeling from before graces Seung-Gil again- but this time, void of the heat of lust.

 

 

It feels nice.

Phichit feels nice.

 

“Phichit thinks you feel nice too.”

 

  
Seung-Gil scolds himself for accidentally saying that last bit out-loud. Trying to save face, he complains, “W-Why am I little spoon?” He grumbles. “I’m taller.”

“I’m older.” Phichit smiles against his shoulder. That’s true, Seung-Gil thinks, and even until now it’s unbelievable. “But if you insist,” the Thai turns to face the wall.

 

Slowly, Seung-Gil turns as well, and admires Phichit’s back in the low light. The scarce brightness makes the lines in his bare back dramatic. He runs a hand down Phichit’s spine.

“Woah there. Where are you going with that hand?” He teases.  
“N-Nowhere!”  
“Geez. How could you still be so flustered after you came on my face?” He laughs.

 

 

 

The memory (still fresh) of Phichit’s tan face, with stark white fluid dripping from the highs of his cheeks, down the bridge of his nose, and on his lips, makes the heat return to his gut.

 

 

 

“Don’t say such filthy things like that!” Seung-Gil scolds, burrowing his face to the back of Phichit’s neck.

Phichit can only laugh and lean backwards into Seung-Gil. The Korean, albeit with much hesitance, drapes an arm across Phichit’s waist.

 

The Thai finds the gesture endearing, and gladly reaches to intertwine their fingers.

“Are you my boyfriend now, Seung-Gil?”

“If… If you don’t mind.” In a bout of openness, he adds, “I’m not sure why you’d want to, though.”

“Well I do.” Phichit hums, as if he’s thinking about something. “From now on, I’ll tell you what I like about you everyday!”

 

Seung-Gil feels his heart stutter. “And when you run out?”

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever run out.”

 

 

Seung-Gil feels the urge to get up and run around the complex, yelling about how fast and how hard he’s fallen in love.

 

 

“Oh.” He says for lack of a better word. He berates himself and, “I promise to… express love better.”

“I appreciate that.” Seung-Gil swears he can hear the smile through his voice.

They fall into a peaceful state while holding hands.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

“What do you like about me today?”

“Hm… Oh, I know!”

“What is it, then?”

“The taste of your cum is very sweet and tasty~”

“SHUT UP, PHICHIT.”


End file.
